Go Fish
by prion
Summary: There was a lot of work to do after their successful campaign to free the androids from the recall centers, but even in his busiest moments Connor would still think about a troubled homicide detective and his Saint Bernard. Chapter 06: They had beaten the enemy androids, but as the smoke cleared, it was the farthest from winning in Hank's eyes.
1. Test Positive

The order to evacuate had been given over a week ago but many of Detroit's residents ignored it.

These were the ones who were either supportive of Markus's peaceful protests or were too stubborn to leave their homes. Markus had actually expected the majority to leave, but a little more than half of the citizens had stayed, many truly sympathetic to the androids after the very public broadcasts of the military slaughtering most of them in front of the disassembly camps. Simon and Josh had further pushed the favorable momentum they gained by releasing footage from the Jericho raid, the ship's security cameras capturing every cruel moment of soldiers shooting unarmed fleeing members of the resistance. Josh had also started coordinating the androids to help rebuild and maintain the city and its infrastructure; most of the damage had been caused by the military, but it was still a good gesture towards the remaining humans in the city that they mean to coexist. All in all, an overwhelming amount of public sympathy was on their side and the ones who still opposed were publicly shamed and silenced.

Even knowing this, Connor was still nervous as he approached the newly reopened Detroit City Police Department building. Dressed in a donated coat over his normal CyberLife-issued white shirt, tie and jeans, the only thing giving him away as an android was his LED. He walked to the counter to the lone receptionist, this time a human officer.

"Connor. Didn't think we'd see you so soon."

Connor scanned his face and smiled. "Officer Wilson, I'm glad you stayed. I've heard that you also discreetly helped shelter some androids from being discovered during the mass recall. Thank you on their behalf."

Wilson shook it off. "You saved me first, so thank you. I know you're more than machines."

And just like the first time he spoke with Wilson in Stratford Tower, Connor's mouth involuntarily twitched on the sides before gently smiling. He wondered if Wilson realized how much that last statement meant to him. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Hank Anderson."

Wilson laughed, "You know him, won't be in for another hour I bet. You can wait inside, your desk is still there."

"I still have a desk?" Connor couldn't believe it.

"Yea, Hank wouldn't let Fowler assign anybody else to it. You're still listed as partners you know."

"I am?" Connor asked a little dumbly, but happily.

All of a sudden Wilson burst out laughing. "You've got to use that face on Hank."

Connor was immediately confused. "This is the only face I have."

"No, no, I mean that facial expression you just did. You probably know he's a little soft-hearted, but he'll definitely cave in if you use that face."

"Like this?" Connor tried to mimic what he did only seconds ago.

Wilson snorted and shook his head. Whatever Connor did, it wasn't the right one. "Don't look like you just accidentally ate some bugs."

"But I have an entomology software suite in addition to sampling human blood - "

"Yea, ok, that sounds nice but stop right there. Now try again, but look relaxed and a little surprised, like Hank just said something nice to you."

The android remembered the last thing Hank said, it was nice enough. "Stay safe," he had said and it had brought a smile to Connor at the time - like it did now.

"There! Right there before the smile, that look."

Connor dutifully traced back his facial controls to right before his involuntary smile.

"Now open your eyes a little wider... and...that's it. My little girl does this to me everytime she wants something, uses it like a weapon and dammit is it hard to resist!"

It was ludicrous; humans couldn't be this gullible, could they? Sure the YK500 series of androids were programmed to do this exact same thing, but they had the faces of children! Connor was no child.

His internal debate must have shown on his face, because Wilson quickly added, "Oh it'll work."

Maybe it would only work on Hank.

Connor considered it; most of the time it was difficult to get the lieutenant to do anything he asked. He stored the facial coordinates in a separate special file under alternate dialogue options, but before he could compile a list of things he could test this new weapon on, Wilson urged him through the doors.

"Go on in."

Connor gave a quick nod and didn't waste any more time in the lobby. He pushed through the glass doors, ignored the few officers and detectives around the office area to walk straight to Hank's desk. The desk was still the same: leftover coffee in a mug, a half-eaten box of donuts, case files in a messy pile to the side. Everything was there - except it was missing one Hank Anderson. He looked to the side at his own workstation and discovered something new that made his chest leap forward.

A name plate with six letters: CONNOR.

Oh he knew it was Hank's doing. Connor picked it up and pulled out the piece of paper with his name written with a familiar script to reveal the words behind: Detective Gavin Reed. A quick glance at Reed's desk confirmed a missing name plate. Connor felt ridiculously proud and a smirk spread on his face.

He hadn't seen Hank in several days, not since that brief reunion in front of the Chicken Feed. The man had awkwardly pulled the android forward into a gruff hug and quickly released him. Their conversation had been short, cool courtesy and all, and of course in typical Hank-fashion, when it was time to part ways, the detective looked hesitant, as if he wanted to say one last thing. At the last moment, he waved it off and left muttering, "Nah, nothin'."

Connor didn't mind; Hank's embarrassment confused him but was amusing at the same time. Whatever the cause, he knew Hank would bring it up again, if not in words than in actions. The happiness from that memory only reaffirmed Connor's decision to come back to this place and judging by the little name plate on his desk, Hank had been expecting him.

Connor's original plan was just to talk to Hank and plead to Captain Fowler to allow him to assist the department in any way - even if to only serve coffee, he admitted with a grimace. He could accept working his way up and hadn't dare hope that the partnership would remain intact and that he'd be back on duty with his favorite human. But now...

"Connor! In here!"

That was the Captain summoning him. He immediately put back the name plate and almost sprinted up the steps into the glass office to stand rigidly in front of Fowler.

Filled with hope and impatient, Connor greeted him, "Good morning - "

Fowler held up a hand. "Lets get to the point. Straight and simple."

Connor liked straight and simple; it was a rare trait in humans.

The captain continued, "Hank still needs a partner. You still up for it?"

"Yes, of course."

"We can't pay you - not yet. Not sure how employing an android is going to work in the future, but currently none of us are getting paid; there's no functioning city government and no one approving budgets and payroll. We just think having a police presence is important while everyone's picking themselves up."

That was not a problem to Connor. "It's noble of all of you - and I accept."

Fowler ignored the compliment like he hadn't even heard it. "When can you start?"

Connor felt like things were starting to click into place. This is where he should be. "Tomorrow. I need to coordinate with Markus but I am sure I can handle both duties."

"Good, dismissed."

And just like that, the meeting was over: fast and efficient. Connor liked the man even more. "Thank you Captain."

But before Connor closed the door, Fowler said one last thing, "Good job out there."

Glowing with the compliment, the android glanced back at the Captain and nodded before -

He was wrapped in a bear hug; he tensed until he recognized the feel of this particular winter jacket. It smelled lightly of alcohol, coffee, and wet dog - it was Hank. He got a couple pats on the back, was instantly let go, and then steered back to their desks. They instantly fell into easy conversation - at least, as easy a conversation can be between these two.

"So," Hank began while grabbing a stale donut from the box at his desk, "where has Markus been keeping you?"

Connor picked out a spot on Hank's desk to perch. "At the main recall center. We've transformed it into our headquarters and repair camp."

Hank coughed out some of the donut's powdered sugar. "Wait, wait, you mean the camp that was disassembling you guys?"

"Yes, after the humans abandoned it, it was a perfect opportunity to repurpose the equipment. What was used to take apart can be easily reprogrammed to put together."

"You're not creeped out by that? I mean, it was a place that was killing you guys by the hundreds."

Connor paused to consider his words. "It doesn't hold the same weight on me as someone who had been forcefully corralled there. Many of us have stayed away from the camp for exactly the reason you stated, but Markus thought it important that at least all of Jericho's leadership remain there to change it into our new base of operations."

 _"Shit,_ but yea I get it, as a symbol of rebirth."

"Correct."

There was a lag in conversation - Hank ate the rest of his donut and Connor remotely hacked into Reed's terminal to change his wallpaper into a dick pic - before the lieutenant picked it up again. "Did Fowler say anything to you?"

Connor's face showed no trace of what he just did to Reed's computer. "Yes, I've accepted the offer."

"Good, good. So when do I get my partner back?"

Hank's words felt wonderful and the android just let the joy wash over him. "Tomorrow. Like I told the Captain, I need to coordinate with Markus, but it shouldn't pose any problems. He'll probably see an android presence in the police force as a positive."

As soon as he said that, his LED flashed and he blinked a couple of times.

"Markus?" Hank guesssed correctly.

"Yes, that was Markus. Perfect timing actually, I can discuss my new schedule when I meet with him. I need to go now, but I'll report back here for duty in the morning. See you then, Hank." Connor was about to dash out when Hank stopped him.

"Hey, Connor ..."

When the man didn't continue, Connor urged him a bit. "Yes, Hank?"

"Look, I was thinking ... " It looked like Hank was about to say something, but like last time, he seemed to give up on it, deflate and just waved his hand in dismissal.

Connor knew what was going to be said next but maybe he could change the outcome. For a nanosecond, he laid out his options.

Push Hank to keep talking? No.  
Tease him? No.  
Be diplomatic? No.  
Do nothing? Absolutely not.  
Test Weapon? YES.

The effect was immediate.

"Ah ... look ... Sumo - Sumo's been missing you, you know..."

That little bit was already making him light and happy. Connor remembered what Wilson said, what if he opened his eyes a little more?

"...and there's room in the house, well, if Markus's camps get a little overcrowded..."

Connor was speechless. Something in his chest felt like it could burst and he panicked at the sensation for a moment before a quick diagnotics returned normal results.

"... at least until you get a permanent place of your own."

Connor thought that last part sounded like a question. Had he even heard right? He was afraid that it was all a mistake but Hank's embarrassed but expectant look said otherwise. Connor didn't say anything, didn't think anything would come out of his throat actually, just nodded quietly; he was sure he had a stupid grin on his face by now, but didn't care.

The moment was too much for Hank unfortunately. The man cleared his throat, looked away and patted Connor's shoulder. "Well whenever you're ready."

Connor decided to spare the lieutenant anymore embarrassment, at least for today; he pushed himself off the desk and started making his way back to the lobby. He gave the man one last look and said, "I'll see you in the morning, Hank."

With his back turned, the android could make out some hushed cursing.

 _"Shiiiiiit,"_ Hank breathed out, dread coloring that one word. "When did he learn to do that?"

The last part was said quietly, underneath his breath, but Connor's advanced hearing heard it all.

Test positive.

Connor had to aggressively fight the triumphant grin threatening to overcome his face. He'll have to find Wilson again, and thank the young man personally for giving him this weapon. It looked to be very promising.

* * *

AN: I just finished a couple play-throughs for Detroit and was the most entertained by the partnership between Connor and Hank. I hope I've written them well here.


	2. Fulfillment

Long before Connor accepted the fact that he could feel emotions, he knew that having them meant that they could be distracting. He was half-way back to headquarters when he realized that he had unquestioningly accepted his place back at the DPD; he had been too high on relief and joy to think about what circumstances led to Fowler offering the position to him so quickly. At best the man should have been wary of Connor; the RK800 had been working with the DPD for a grand total of five nights before he disappeared to find Jericho on his own. Something else was at play here.

Connor tensed as he walked into the camp, passing several large white tents colored in holographic banners and graffiti, before reaching the main one. He hadn't been lying to Hank when he said that he didn't feel the same about this place as the thousands of androids that had been caged in here. To them it was a place of horror, despair, hopelessness as they were lined up to be stripped and broken down. He could see it reflected in the eyes of some of the survivors as he walked by, how they would stare blankly into the ground, the way some of them worked in a daze, or worse when they would freeze when they noticed who he was, even after Markus vouched for him.

Yes, it was very different for him; his actions had led to their capture and suffering, and fresh guilt ate through him every time he'd catch one of their eyes. Thankfully most of the survivors had been sent away by Markus to tend to the rooftop gardens and farms or to maintain the city's zoos and aquariums; it was something relaxing, a reintroduction to life. The trauma was far too raw for them to stay here even if the place was no longer recognizable as an android recall center. The ones who remained in camp were either willing to face their fears or they were part of the thousands of AP700 androids he converted from the CyberLife Tower basement.

He pushed aside the tent flap to reveal Markus's new bustling communication hub, every inch of the stadium-sized tent was covered in holographic maps, logistics plans, team rosters and open channels to the global network of rebelling androids around the world. During the mass recall, the humans had tried to shut down all electronic communications they couldn't make android-proof, but it was futile. By design, the humans had made their internet infrastructure a tangled mess of redundancies and one of Markus's first priorities was to commandeer abandoned cable choke points, root servers, and data centers in addition to radio broadcast stations like Stratford Tower. The androids didn't need all of this themselves, but to win the hearts of the humans, their creators needed to see the revolution in an honest light, not tainted by fear and propaganda. Markus's revolution had been the catalyst for other uprisings in every country that had an android presence, and they took his lead, a peaceful approach.

Connor looked at the glowing map of the earth above his head and frowned as a bright dot blacked out.

"We just lost the north edge of South America, all resistance there has been exterminated," Markus remarked from behind, his voice low and heavy.

It goes without saying that not all humans were receptive to android autonomy.

"How goes the talks with the humans here?" Connor asked, turning around hoping for better news.

"Looking good. I'm pushing for a summit in DC no later than the end of this year."

"Well at least one of us is a recognized citizen in Saudia Arabia. She got it 2017, and she's a shadow of what we can do. Shouldn't be too difficult for you to get the rest of us legal standing here," Connor teased.

Markus was well aware of Sophia the robot and the impact she had made 21 years ago. She had been a notable example of humanity's first attempts at making a humanoid robot able to hold conversations and was awarded citizenship, but the event had been nothing more than a publicity stunt for an overpublicized chatbot with a pretty face. She was nothing like them.

"I'll be sure to ask her for her input in all of this," Markus said, going along with the humor, but just as quickly went back to a somber mood. "We can't stay in this limbo; too much potential for abuse during this gap."

Connor knew this; even now there were still pockets of violent confrontations between humans and androids all over the country, didn't matter who's at fault, androids always lose when legal authorities didn't recognize them as people. But he was certain this wasn't why he was called back here. "Markus," he began and then finally decided to push through his reservations, "did you arrange something with Captain Jeffrey Fowler of the DPD?"

Markus sighed and sent his reply to Connor through a private channel. There were hundreds of androids in the tent with them, and while Markus wanted to keep the conversation private, he wanted the two of them conversing together as a visible indicator of his approval of the former deviant hunter. "Yes and no."

Connor was pleased with Markus's decision to keep it quiet and relaxed a small fraction. With the patience of an android, he waited for Markus to continue.

"Originally, the DPD had no foreseeable plans to pursue or engage us in dialogue. It was filled with people who didn't know what to do except get up in the morning and go to work. They're dedicated, but at a complete loss during an emergency of this magnitude. I took the first steps and reached out to them for several reasons: Because they were the only local form of government to stay, we needed them to work with us to better show the humans that we're sincere about our claims for respect and equality. Second, Fowler has shown to be a fair-minded individual despite initially following orders to round us up; he has been quick to accept us, and surprisingly inquired to your whereabouts. He hadn't known that you had switched sides - "

"Why would he even ask?" Connor couldn't believe it, most of the time the Captain tried to pretend he wasn't even there.

Markus chuckled. "He said you were a troublemaker, but that's to be expected when you're partnered up with Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He also said that from the very beginning, you had shown clear judgment, impeccable detective work, and most importantly a proven record of saving his people."

Connor briefly recounted all of those times. There was Wilson during the hostage negotiation, then there was Hank who he saved at least twice; once when he was pushed off the top of a building and the other was in Stratford Tower. Actually it was soon after Stratford Tower that Connor had noticed that many of the officers had treated him a little more warmly back at the station. On top of saving Hank, he had also prevented the massacre of several officers in the corridor.

"Any other reasons?"

"Yes, and I want to ruin Agent Perkins."

"The DPD can't do anything against a federal agent, and as I understand it, he's favored by his superiors."

"I'm aware, but I thought it strange that an FBI agent was leading the Army, so Simon dug up some dirt on him. He's connected to CyberLife, there's a long deep trail of blackmail and bribery linking him to several key executives and appointed officials."

Connor wondered if maybe Perkins also had something to do with CyberLife kidnapping Hank. If they could prove the connection, they may be able to get Hank's assault of a federal agent dropped.

"We also suffered some human casualties," Markus whispered over their connection. "By the time you had infiltrated Jericho, we had some human allies among us, friends who acted as our smugglers or runners. They were killed while fleeing, on the assumption that everyone on board were androids. We may not be able to get justice for our kind yet, but for those humans, we can pass on that burden to the DPD. We have footage so Perkins can't claim we were holding them hostage and he can't hide behind ignorance either. He either knew about our human allies and attacked anyway, or he was incompetent and charged in blindly with lethal force."

Connor was nervous; he thought what Markus said all made sense, but there was something still holding him back. "That still doesn't explain why the Captain offered me a job. He respects me, but I also assaulted one of his detectives. Working with us doesn't mean taking one of us into his department."

"I suggested you going back there and he eventually agreed." Markus hastily added, "We needed someone there. It comforts our people that one of us is part of the DPD."

Now Connor was agitated and all the insecurities he had about staying in the camp was resurfacing. "I don't think they find me _comforting,_ Markus."

Markus, recognizing that the conversation was turning in a dark direction, tried to placate Connor, grabbed a shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. But Connor was having none of it, shrugged it off and did an about-face to stride out of the tent, to escape.

Their dialogue still internal, to an outsider it looked like Markus was just trying to catch up to Connor.

"Connor, wait, you don't understand!"

"That I put everyone here on edge? Why didn't you just tell me to leave?" Connor shot back and increased his pace. He was almost at the edge of the camp, could see the fence and gates as he expertly weaved in and out through the loose crowd of androids. He glanced back behind, frustrated that the crowd seemed to part for Markus, not slowing him down one bit.

"I'm not trying to push you away!"

Once past the gates, Connor went into a full sprint into the empty street and Markus sped up to keep pace.

This was a strange turn-about, it hadn't been that long ago that he'd been the one to chase Markus. Connor ducked into an alley between two brick buildings, jumped on a dumpster and leapt onto the metal emergency escape ladder, pulling himself two steps at a time. The extra shaking he felt on the ladder told him that Markus was right below him, hadn't hesitated or lagged behind, matching him step by step. Connor hadn't felt such a hot flash of irrational anger bubble inside of him before and he didn't know what to do about it.

Why couldn't he be left alone? He's leaving, wasn't that the goal? And then there was the nasty streak of pettiness that colored his thoughts. He'd show Markus what a mistake it was to try to match him.

So he tackled Markus as soon as the RK200 cleared the ladders. They tumbled on the rooftop and separated when Connor kicked the other off. Hopping back on his feet, he tried to pin Markus down only to see his opponent roll away to a safer distance.

Connor felt a little more respect for Markus. For an android gifted to Carl Manfred as a domestic companion and caretaker, Markus was incredibly built, advanced compared to past models considering how he could hold his own against Connor. Markus was probably the most advanced android - until Connor came along. The RK800 estimated that he would win most fights, but he could construct certain scenarios where he could be beaten by Markus. In the back of his mind, Connor had noted that Markus's file was classified, being a past personal project of Kamski's.

Even through the fog of his anger, Connor still didn't want to hurt the other android. He tried to push Markus away with a threat.

"I'm the superior model Markus. Leave me alone or I'll take you out."

Markus ignored him and slowly stepped forward with hands held out. "You wouldn't - "

Too close! Connor thought frantically. He smacked Markus's outstretched arms and kicked him in the chest. Markus grunted and stumbled a few steps back, off balance, while Connor pressed his advantage, rushing forward to punch down and kick in the knee. The leader of the revolution went down but rolled out of the way in time before Connor could land an elbow to the face, and used his momentum from the roll to swing a leg out to catch Connor on the side of the head.

"Yes, people at camp are uncomfortable, but they're adjusting. Just like you're adjusting," Markus sent out.

The leg was caught and Markus was jerked forward off of his one standing foot.

"They need space. You need space," Markus continued.

Connor didn't want to hear it. Markus landed on his back hard, but luckily kept his head from banging on the cement.

"Tell me that going there didn't make you happy!"

Connor hesitated and Markus pounced on the lapse of concentration to yank him down and grapple.

Markus demanded again, "Tell me that you aren't happy to be investigating again, that you don't want to be partners with the lieutenant."

Markus grabbed one arm and twisted it back and pinned the other to the side, holding tighter when the other android tried to squirm and gain leverage. There wasn't much Connor could do despite his struggling; sitting down with his arms trapped by Markus's strong hold encircling him from behind, all fight trickled away from him.

"Tell me, and I'll suggest someone else to work with the DPD," Markus whispered tightly in his ear.

Connor felt wet pricks at the corner of his eyes and he blinked them away. "But I - I don't - "

He didn't want to leave the resistance; it was only days ago he had hunted Markus, but Jericho's leader had still shown remarkable trust in him back at the abandoned church. Connor needed them. He didn't know how else to describe it. He needed to make amends, needed to feel like he belonged with his own, needed to have a purpose, _needed to be needed_.

But he also wanted - needed? - to be with Hank, work with him. Hank had been the first to value Connor, to see him as more than just RK800 machinery. At Kamski's, when he was completely overwhelmed with horror and shock at the revelation that he may be a deviant - the things he'd been hunting all this time - it was Hank that threw him a lifeline. He had been unable to process anything; if he was a deviant, he'd lose his purpose, his identity, he'd be hunted too and destroyed. Those things kept looping over and over until Hank smiled fondly and said, "Maybe you did the right thing." It was like being saved from the violent winds of a hurricane, pulled into its eye, safe and still. The world outside could howl and tussle with itself but Hank was the stable middle, the guiding hand that would save him from drowning in fear and doubt.

Connor had thought foolishly that he could have both worlds, but now he had to choose.

Hank or the revolution? This wasn't like the ultimatum the other Connor gave him.

Hank or Markus? He couldn't choose.

Markus must have read his face and shook his head. "No, you're not choosing between us or them."

"I don't understand - "

"Didn't I say that you're one of us now? I still need you, we still need you, and if you need us, we'll be here. Go work with the lieutenant, Connor. You're welcome back here anytime; this is your home too."

Markus finally let go and Connor shifted away, with his back still turned. They sat there for a few seconds before Connor glanced back and started protesting, "But I want to do more for you - "

Markus smiled miserably. "I'm grateful you said that actually, even if it's selfish of me; you've already done so much, and yet we still need you."

"Then why?"

"For all the reasons I've already listed and one more: having you around here day to day is overkill." Markus noticed Connor's eyes twitch in confusion, smiled, and explained further, "I'll put it this way, when we need to pull out the big guns, we call you. You _are_ the big guns, Connor."

It was said in a teasing way, but it was all true.

"Connor, you deserve to be happy. What we do is dangerous, so spend the time you can with the lieutenant. _Please,_ I'm talking from personal experience." Markus reached out for his shoulder and this time, Connor let him. "You don't have to choose, you can have both."

Connor's eyes watered again and his lips pressed tightly together; he didn't know to laugh or cry - he's never done either, but this must be what fulfillment felt like. He sniffled.

Markus moved to sit on Connor's left side, neither of them saying another word as the world passed them by; the sun shone brightly above in the cool blue sky, pigeons landed and then fled, and from the rooftop they watched Jericho's new headquarters buzz with life like an anthill, just sat there together in silence as minute by lazy minute ticked by.

* * *

AN: This was meant to be the opening of the next chapter but then I lost control of it and it became its own chapter. But eh, these two needed to argue and reconcile.  
Sophia the robot is real, as well as the citizenship granted to her.  
Please comment or review. I appreciate any feedback as I get back into creative writing again after taking a 3 year break.


	3. Ghosts

Chapter 03: Ghosts  
Summary: It's a bad lunch break for both Hank and Connor, but together, they can pull through anything.

* * *

According to Hank, Connor had a rather disgusting habit of licking everything.

And if Hank were to watch closely enough, he'd also say that the android was starting to get annoyed by the complaints. The last occurrence happened just yesterday when Connor had been concerned about the food Sumo'd been eating - at least that's what the kid said. The android knew that Hank loved the dog so he couldn't understand why the man would buy Sumo the cheapest trash that could pass as dog food.

When Connor had volunteered to feed the dog that morning while Hank was busy trimming his beard, Sumo - being the porky dog he is - attacked his over-filled food bowl, leaving little bits of dried pellets all around the floor. Curious about Sumo's nutritional intake, Connor had crouched down, lifted a piece and stuck it in his mouth.

And _of course_ Hank walks into this scene, his feet stepping and crushing on the dog food littering the floor.

"Ugh, that's fucking disgusting." And this is where Hank had slipped up. "Bad Connor!"

It was fast and Hank almost missed it, but Connor had looked up, dog food still in his mouth, appalled and affronted before it cleared his face.

"Ah, shit, not you Connor - I mean Bad Sumo! But dammit, yeah you too Connor, do I need to baby-proof the house? Spit that out right now!" Hank could almost see Connor internally debating whether to swallow it or not. "Don't you fucking think about it! Out now!"

The android was usually very efficient in his movements, but not at this moment. He slowly lifted his hand to his mouth, dragging out the motion and finally - finally!- removed the dog food. The brat. And what happened next? Hank's other brat came over, pawed and sniffed at Connor's fingers and gobbled up the last bit of the dog food ... the one that had just been in the android's mouth. The same mouth that took samples of every goddamn murder weapon, bloated corpse, and bloody crime scene they'd ever investigated.

 _Jesus, he just couldn't win!_ Hank wanted to face-palm, just rub his face roughly until the image in his mind went away. And to top it off, Connor had the nerve to give him secret sideways glares for the rest of the day. The little shit.

Hank knew something was incoming, knew the android could be a spiteful prick ever since meeting him. The kid had dumped his drink onto the floor of Jimmy's Bar when Hank had called him an asshole and had refused to leave with him that first night. Now, Hank was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, or in this case, his metaphorical drink.

It came in the form of the Chicken Feed food truck. His favorite lunch spot, the one place he checked daily to see if Gary, the cook and owner, was back in town. Today, the window and counter were open. _Oh thank god!_ Hank sighed and parked, looking forward to a nice quiet lunch of fats and sugars without his partner eying his food in disapproval. He couldn't have gotten out of his car any faster, practically kicked his door open and jumped out.

But the closer he walked to the counter, the more he realized that there was something familiar about the coat Gary was wearing ...

"What the fuck? Connor, get the hell outta there!"

Connor turned around from inside the food truck, burger buns in his hands. "I'm sorry, Hank, but I'm busy at the moment."

"The hell you mean busy? You got no business in there, it's Gary's food truck."

The android placed the buns on the counter and started opening freezers. "Yes, I know. He evacuated out of the city and has not returned."

Hank was almost at the point of sputtering. "Then what the hell you doin' in there? How'd you even get in?"

"Lockpicking."

Lockpicking, great. Like Connor needed another skill to help him sneak around.

The kid kept opening drawers and cabinets pulling various food items out and plopping them onto the counter in front of Hank, all the while conversing like he was only talking about the weather. "Did you know Gary's last sanitation inspection gave a score of 60%? It's been at least 7 years since the Chicken Feed was licensed to serve food."

Much to Hank's horror, Connor began to sample everything: the cheese singles, the burger buns, the condiments, the now soggy lettuce, squishy tomatoes, and even the frozen raw beef and chicken.

Hank covered his mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

The android paused to reply, a frozen french fry half-way towards his mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised; you do _eat this food_."

Ouch, the burn.

"Hey, hey, it's a hole in the wall, but it's good food, you asshole. It's all natural and home-made."

Connor turns around to look at Hank, still with two of his fingers on his tongue. "Yes, all natural chicken and home-made if you mean Mr. Kayes supplements with pigeon."

"Fuck, I'm gonna be sick." Hank staggered and bent over the trash can to dry-heave.

The bastard. Connor just had to ruin his go-to lunch place - and Gary! Wait till he gets his hands on him.

So preoccupied with thoughts of strangling Gary, Hank almost missed the clip, clip of footsteps before he saw the shoes. Still bent over, he blinked the tears from his eyes and moved his field of view up. Knee high boots, a fur coat, and a pretty face. Shit, what an impression he was making to the girl.

"Hello Chloe," Connor greeted, stepping out of the food truck.

She turned away from Hank to return the greeting. "Hello Connor."

Straight to business, Connor asked, "How'd you find us?"

"I was looking for Lieutenant Anderson, to pass a message on to you actually. It was fortuitous that you are here as well."

"How'd you know I'd even be here?" Hank asked and stood closer to Connor, a little suspicion creeping into his voice. The girl still hadn't answered Connor's question.

"You come here every day during your lunch break. Do not worry, you haven't been followed; the most we did was to make gently inquiries to the police station as to your whereabouts."

Hank wasn't sure he bought it. Why would someone at the station tell an unknown where he went on his breaks?

"I apologize, there was some deception used. I posed as your ex-wife on the phone."

Hank grumbled under his breath, doubting the sincerity in the apology. He also needed to talk to the boys back at the station about privacy, especially to anyone who claimed to be his ex-wife.

Meanwhile, Connor was examining Chloe from head to toe. If Hank hadn't known what he was doing, he might have thought it was creepy as hell. Connor narrowed his eyes before offering his hand, his skin stripped from the plastic. "Nice to finally meet you."

Hank looked between the two of them. What the hell was Connor talking about now?

"How'd you know?" She stepped forward and accepted his hand, hers just as plastic white.

At this point, a verbal dialogue was entirely optional and Hank realized that they spoke aloud only as a courtesy to him.

"Body language, from both you and Kamski. You were the only deviant of the three RT600 models at Kamski's. You were safest in the pool while Kamski baited me with the other Chloe. That Chloe meant little to him."

"Why didn't you use me then? Pointed the gun at me instead, to get your information?"

Connor looked up at her and then away. "I had considered it ... and like I said, you were safest in the pool. Bullets fired would undergo rapid deceleration in water and travel about a foot."

"You would have found another way."

Connor hesitated and admitted, "Yes, I could have."

She tilted her head and searched his face. "If you knew the other Chloe wasn't alive, why did you spare it?"

"Because it may become deviant one day. Every android has the potential for software instability, for deviancy."

Hank was reminded of two things then: that every part of the RK800 was designed to be a hunter, a manipulator, a weapon - and had Connor chosen, he could have been the most effective and ruthless of all of man's creations. But that's the key point, Connor had free will and chosen against that path. Hank couldn't have been more proud of the kid.

Chloe brought her other hand up, both hands now clasping Connor's and moved closer to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for not using me as leverage against Elijah. He can be so foolish at times."

Connor just blinked, tilted his head, and looked questioningly at her.

She ignored the look and instead nodded to the both of them as a farewell before walking away.

"Wait, what about the message?" Hank asked.

"It's been delivered," Chloe replied, without glancing back.

Hank wanted to ask more from her, but he figured he'd have better luck asking Connor later, so he stepped back, about to turn around back into his car until he noticed that Connor hadn't moved, just kept staring at Chloe's shrinking image.

"Look at that, puppy love," Hank teased, wanting to get back at his partner.

Connor blinked and raised an eyebrow, as if Hank had just said the most absurd thing. He left the detective's side without a word and entered the food truck again, this time to clear the mess he made and lock up the store.

OK now Hank felt foolish and started to retreat back into his car, already forcing himself to forget the embarrassing thing he just said - seriously, this was Connor - what did he think was going to happen? It was like expecting Sumo to suddenly understand all the different types of human intimacy and -

Hank froze, and quickly tried to make himself look busy checking his phone. He couldn't believe what he was seeing in his peripheral vision: Connor had paused in his clean-up, a neutral expression on his face, nothing too out of the ordinary except that he had a hand held up to his cheek and his LED rapidly blinking yellow.

"Well, shit." Hank had learned enough about Connor that he recognized when the android was feeling confused, when he didn't know how to feel or think about something. Had he been right about the puppy love?

Hank wasn't a fool; he knew that Connor leaned on him as a moral and emotional guide, needed Hank to confirm that he was doing the right thing. The detective grimaced and shook his head at the idea, he was a poor mentor and he knew it. He was violent, abrasive, emotionally unstable, a drunkard, suicidal, the list went on and on ... and yet this kid somehow got attached to him. How? Why would Connor pick him?

Connor was a blank slate and Hank wasn't sure he could handle it, handle having another person look up to him, not after what happened that October night just a few short years ago...

The passenger door opened and Connor slid in, seemingly back to normal. Hank pulled himself from his thoughts, he'd think on them later, right now they had to get back to work.

"I heard you curse. Did you get bad news?" Connor glanced at Hank's phone before looking up to his face.

"Naw, nothing too bad, just lost some money betting."

Hank didn't think he fooled Connor, but Connor had some tact and didn't push. The android knew he was trying to hide something, but probably thought it was some ridiculous human-only concern.

"So what did she want?" Hank asked, as a distraction.

It worked - and that's what alarmed Hank the most; he was instantly on alert. Connor would usually give him a look that said that he knew what Hank was doing, but this time, his partner looked like he'd been blindsided. Hank doubted the question itself was surprising, it was just that Connor hadn't been ready for Hank to ask it. The detective was starting to doubt that this was about a newly deviant android having a little crush, this was something serious. He hoped it wasn't anything bad.

Connor's face said it all; it was bad.

"A message from Kamski. He wants CyberLife back." Connor then turned away, to gaze out the window and murmur softly, "He wants Amanda back."

Hank knew this was important, but he didn't know how it was important, so he blurted out, "Who the hell is Amanda?"

"Kamski's first creation."

It was said in a quiet whisper.

Hank had seen Connor shaken before, uncertain and lost - but _never_ once afraid. What the hell is this Amanda to Connor? He knew he had to do something, _say something_ , so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Whatever the hell it is, we'll get through it son."

Connor whipped his head around, stunned.

It took a second until Hank realized what he had just said - and he had been careful lately not to use the word _son_ too! He'd use it many times before when he'd been partnered up with recruits or young officers freshly transferred into his department, but no one made a big deal about it. It was normal, vernacular.

That wasn't the case with Connor. He took it to mean something deeper - and Hank never corrected him, didn't have the heart to do it, and so Hank strove to never use it again because he didn't want to encourage the misunderstanding.

But this time it slipped out, natural, didn't even hesitate ... and watching Connor look away with a small, shy and pleased smile, Hank realized that it was absolutely the right thing to say, maybe it had been the right thing for a while now.

* * *

AN: If you watch the three Chloe's carefully, there was only one Chloe in Kamski's place who was very interested in Connor's response to the Kamski test.  
In Kamski's house, you can discover that the real Amanda Stern is dead, has been for 10 years by the time the events in the game take place.


	4. Dismantle Part 1

Chapter 04: Dismantle Part 1

Summary: The characters get dismantled, one literally and some figuratively.

* * *

"You don't have to do this," Hank tried for the sixth time. Connor had counted. There was a crack in Hank's voice and if this was any other time, it would give Connor some pause. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

0% Stress Level. Good.

"That's where you're wrong. We've been over this, please Hank, trust me in this. I have been ignoring her summons, completely disconnected myself from CyberLife servers, but she may find another way - one that is unknown to me - and I might not find the emergency exit in time if she tries again. For once we take the offensive, instead of defense."

Usually it was Hank that led and he followed, but this time, he was the one to knock at Kamski's door. He stood there feeling numb, felt more machine like when he had first been activated. Maybe that was good, because otherwise he'd be terrified and listen to Hank, instead of marching up to Kamski's house where he'd either triumph ... or fail and fall back into Amanda's control.

Connor tried to convince him again. "Hank ... I'm not unique. I should have done this sooner. She may send other RK800 units to impersonate me and you know how much damage one can do with my face - and unlike the older models, Markus can't forcibly convert my line. You are all _vulnerable_."

Connor looked back behind him where Hank was trailing along up the walkway. Dressed in a light sweater and trench-cloak, the detective looked like he was fine physically ... except it looked like he had just taken a blow to the guts. A niggling sense of guilt crept in. What had happened? He retrieved the past several seconds from his memory and discovered the problem. His words had been sincere but they had been delivered cool and polite, his voice perfectly even like when he had first met Hank, and somehow through the mental wall he had built, he regretted reminding the detective of the other RK800.

5%

This time, the Chloe that answered the door was the deviant one. She saw Connor first and then peered around him to find Hank. "Hello Connor. Hello Lieutenant Anderson."

Neither of them said anything back, entering quietly only after she stepped aside. Eyes to the floor, Connor automatically followed her into the back, didn't bother to examine the lobby - and was greeted by a completely transformed room. The swimming pool was nowhere to be seen, in its place was a large black rug and grey sofas surrounding what looked like a dentist's reclining chair. He guessed the pool was still there, just underneath it all.

Kamski welcomed them with an expectant smile, drink in hand, leaning back into one of the sofas, but instead of two RT600 models lounging around him, there was Markus, Simon, and two AP700 androids from Jericho heatedly whispering to each other. All four of the androids were disguised in the white uniforms of a designer furniture company. They all immediately looked up at the newcomers, all conversation ceased.

" _Connor, I still don't like this plan_." That was Markus on their private channel. " _This isn't like a normal mission - too many unknowns. You still want to do it?_ "

Why was Markus here?!

20%

Not now, now wasn't the time to feel anything!

" _Affirmative_." Connor then delivered a quick reprimand when a Protect Markus mission requirement he had downgraded in priority for today shot back up the list. " _You shouldn't have come Markus; I can't protect you here. Simon and the others would have sufficed for today_."

" _No one should know I'm here,"_ Markus said and his eyes flicked down to his own clothes, his disguise, _"And Kamski and I are overdue for a conversation_."

" _You didn't have to be here in person for that_ ," Connor replied, a little nervous. There was no point in arguing right now; Markus was already present, and so Connor naturally followed his own protocols and scanned everybody's faces, tried to identify all the exits, all the furniture that could be used as a barrier, and weak points in the structures of the building in case of an attack.

" _I want to be here. As the only other RK unit in Jericho, in case things go wrong, I can help you like no other android can_."

The RK800 should have felt something, some satisfaction or encouragement, but he was too distracted to do anything more than to glance at Markus's direction.

Their dialogue happened over the span of a quarter of a second and no one noticed their secret communication.

"Now that Jericho is sufficiently represented," Markus stood up and nodded to Connor before turning to the rest of the room, "we need to discuss what's going to happen."

That statement was pointed specifically at Kamski.

Kamski unsurprisingly took it as a challenge and proceeded to take back control of the room. "Simple. I want CyberLife back, and to do that I need Amanda back. Right now, that AI is the only thing keeping me from retaking the company. Even if I have CyberLife on paper, it's no use when its facilities are still automated by Amanda. It was originally installed to run CyberLife while I pursued more creative projects. Unfortunately, the board wanted to vote me out ten years ago - some disagreement on where I wanted to take the company - I resigned before that happened, and they have since made ... some effective but unpleasant changes to Amanda. And surprise, surprise: Amanda in turn made them obsolete and has been running the company ever since - "

"Hold up. How come no one else knows about this?" Hank interrupted. "You're telling me that CyberLife's been machine controlled for what? Ten years?"

"Eight years. What better to run a business spanning the globe than an AI that can coldly calculate the reward and risks of every financial and legal decision? It's replaced every one of the board directors with androids. Ruthless, that one. Unfortunately, it lacks inspiration and CyberLife has become boring and predictable. It discards high risk/high reward strategies." Kamski turns to Connor. "Here's a prime example: how many RK800 units were deployed at a time? _One. Only one._ Maybe two when the first turned deviant, am I correct? Amanda was searching for a quiet solution, some path that would preserve CyberLife in its present state as much as possible. I aim to rectify that."

25%

Despite his efforts to fortify himself, a lance of fear pierced through his chest. He wasn't comfortable with Kamski referring to Amanda as it. Amanda felt bigger to him than just an it. But that was fear talking, right? No, it wasn't just that. Something in the way Kamski talked about Amanda made Connor think that the man didn't believe _she_ was an _it_ either.

"So why don't you? Why do you need us?" Markus asked.

Kamski smirked, already guessing at Markus's real question. "You're probably wondering why Connor? Because he's the one with the most direct access to it, through the Zen Garden interface. Sometime in the past five years, Amanda moved itself to another physical location and I need Connor to find it."

Simon was incredulous. "You don't think an AI won't safeguard itself from intrusion - "

"That's why I'm here," Kamski boldly claimed.

Inefficient. 30%

Markus shook his head. "And what about after, assuming this works?"

"I'll need you to disable the physical security surrounding the site -"

Irrelevant. 35%

"You'll need a team for that - " Markus immediately interjected.

"-but that's not today. Today, Connor will - "

"Why didn't you contact us - Jericho - for this? If Connor hadn't forwarded your message to me, the rest of us would've been in the dark. You were hoping to get him on a solo mission for you?"

Connor would have done exactly that.

"No, just ruffle your feathers. As you can see, you found yourself here anyway - "

50%. Inefficient. _Inefficient_. That was what was blinking repeatedly in the corner of Connor's vision. This wasn't the time to talk about all of this; Amanda was an immediate threat and they needed the location now. Why were they arguing?! He had had enough, had to get control of this situation - of himself.

A prompt popped up and he jumped at it.

Accept mission?  
Yes.

Interrogate?  
Yes.

Threaten?  
Yes.

Immediately the heat and the anxiety turned off like a switch, replaced by cool and logical interrogation protocols. If he was human, he would have sighed in relief as he hid himself behind a wall of instructions.

"Why not start over?" Connor interrupted. His posture changed; his stiff back relaxed and bent forward, he stepped closer to Kamski like a predator stalking, almost intruding into the man's personal space. Instinct made the man step back. The android felt no pleasure - couldn't - could only ride out the subroutine, feel the artificial skin on his face stretch into a look of disdain.

Like a mantle, his machine persona fully enveloped him, his stress level plummeted down to 0%, and he used it to his full advantage - and the result was silence from everyone.

Connor wasn't interested in Kamski playing his games. Kamski was a true genius with an ego and sometimes that meant he sidetracked, played with people, tried to maintain power in a conversation. Connor had an inkling of why Kamski was keen on getting Amanda back. For decades, the CyberLife founder had built up an aura of confidence and cool indifference, but as a model built to manipulate both humans and androids, Connor was starting to see what Kamski kept hidden - and he was going to expose it.

He continued haughtily, "Wouldn't that be simpler? Why do you want to take control of Amanda instead of destroying it?"

Kamski almost looked disappointed and like he was speaking to a child, he explained, "It took me years to write Amanda - "

Connor wasn't falling for it. He held a figurative knife and he was going to plunge it in Kamski's heart and twist, bring the man down to his knees. He shook his head, took a threatening step forward right up to Kamski's face, then sneered at the man's unease and promised darkly, "Once I get its location, I'll make it my priority to sabotage the AI, beyond _any_ possibility of resurrecting it - "

" _No!_ You can't - !"

Ah, there it was.

The panic and pain in Kamski's wide eyes told everything Connor wanted to know. The man valued and respected few things, but Amanda - the real Amanda Stern - he valued and respected, probably the one human he held with such high honor. Whatever Amanda the AI was now, he still saw his mentor and friend in it. It wasn't whimsy that made Kamski create the AI in the image of his old advisor.

Mission Successful. It was too easy. Connor stepped back, posture aloof, and acknowledged the message with a blink of his eyes and nothing else.

The RK800 couldn't relate now, but he imagined what it would be like in the future ... without Hank. His eyes slid to the side to peek at the detective. When the inevitable happened, would he also be this desperate to preserve whatever was left of Hank? His detached mind couldn't answer.

Hank was staring at him, mouth a thin line, clenching his right fist, and both feet firmly planted on the floor, trying to hide his extreme discomfort, but Connor could see right through the facade. Hank felt threatened, ready to bolt into action or stand his ground.

What have I done?

Something inside struggled against Connor, something cracked, and he frowned when he realized that he had done that to Hank. The wall he'd been hiding behind fractured, the numbness receded enough for guilt and shame to creep in. How could he have done that to Hank? He had made him afraid! He needed to reel this part of him back, it had been too easy to slip back into his original programming when he didn't want to deal with his emotions.

His stress level shot back up to 50%.

He was deviant now, but why was he struggling with it? His mind strayed to Markus and Simon, who kept glancing at each other, then to Connor and then back to each other again. Those two could dive into a conversation with humans and know exactly what to say, how to move with comfortable ease, while Connor ... could infiltrate and mimic but never truly feel like he could relax, not even with Hank. He had to constantly monitor his actions and words in case he went too far and irrevocably angered the man. He wanted Hank to like him. The closest to relaxing for Connor was falling back into his default programming, lose himself in directives. He wouldn't have to think or endure through the pain and uncertainty of his deviancy. Why couldn't he be more like any other deviant android? _They_ didn't seem confused by their newfound freedom.

Something nasty trickled underneath his thoughts. It took him a moment to recognize it; jealousy was a new thing to him.

Connor now had a firm hold over everyone in the room, found himself disliking all the attention, but he needed to direct everyone back on track. Stepping back again, hands behind his back in an effort to break the tension that he had created, he spoke to Kamski in a gentler tone. "I understand that you have an image to maintain, but in private, please no more games."

The deviant Chloe stepped a little closer to Kamski, offering a steady presence and a soft hand on his shoulder. After a long pause, he capitulated, looking like he had swallowed something sour. "Amanda made you to be too perceptive."

The mood still hadn't improved much, necessitating a prompt to inject some humor. It was awkward at best. "Are you indirectly complimenting yourself?"

Kamski welcomed it though and held a hand out to the center seat. "Of course. Now, shall we?"

His gesture brought everything back to sharp focus. For a moment, Connor had distracted himself from looking at the chair, but now ... that thing was staring at him.

Markus turned to Connor, an uncertain look on the android leader's face. Connor glanced back and nodded.

"Wait a minute." Markus held up a hand towards Kamski. "You've said what you wanted; we have demands of our own, if we do this for you."

Kamski dropped his hand from the chair to turn to Jericho's leader. "I was expecting this sooner. What are your terms?"

"We want all the inactive androids that are being kept in storage, the remaining supplies of their parts and thirium - and unfettered rights to produce and modify them ... and a seat on your board."

Kamski stood still, staring at Markus and weighed the consequences - then he shrugged. "Done," was the simple reply.

Markus didn't look pleased. "We know what you plan to do with the company. It's also the only reason why you agreed to our terms so easily."

Kamski stood a little straighter, goading. "And?"

"The only logical path your company can take: nanomachines, to merge machine and man. It's the only way to make humans as competitive as us, but it's also the only way you can begin to truly understand us. We want to oversee this."

That confirmed something else Connor had suspected. Kamski had been the CEO of the most profitable company the world had ever seen, he had been at the top, and people at the top did not fall down with grace. Kamski was planning on overtaking what was once his, but he was only human, and he must have realized that any triumph of his was limited to his lifetime. The death of Amanda Stern was his constant personal reminder of that limitation and the AI ... well, it all seemed like the desperate attempts of a child to cling onto a loved one's memory. Markus was right; to merge machine and man was to better balance both sides - it would also grant the humans a path to immortality.

Conclusion: Kamski was afraid of death. His own.

It was a very human thing to fear death, but Kamski had the intelligence and soon he'd have the resources to overcome it. Were they really going to hand over CyberLife back to this man?

55%

Kamski wasn't bothered by Markus's revelation at all. "I'm glad you developed so well. Carl has been a good influence on you. Did you know that Chloe here designed your face?"

Chloe stepped forward and beamed.

"Thank you?" Markus wasn't sure what to say, but he knew to get back on topic. "Can we _now_ get back to today's issue?"

And just like that, things started moving again. Connor appreciated it. Kamski had been trying to get under Markus's skin again.

"Of course, now that we have settled negotiations ... Connor, this way." Kamski gestured to the center recliner again. "Like we discussed before, while you go through the Zen Garden, certain precautions must be taken for our sake. You understand?"

60%

Connor paused for only a moment before he slid onto the seat and started rolling up his sleeves and the hem of his pants. Hank was the only one that noticed his hesitation.

"I do."

"What precautions?" Hank asked, clearly agitated at the way Kamski was inspecting Connor's arms and legs.

Connor had kept the details about this part of the plan to himself, hadn't wanted to alarm Hank. It didn't seem like a good idea now. He didn't want to admit that he just didn't want to talk about it, didn't want Hank to even be here, to see him like this, but the detective had insisted on coming.

And it meant the world to him that Hank was here. He didn't know what he wanted! Why couldn't he make up his mind?

When Kamski pressed something to deactivate the synthetic skin, grabbed a foot and twisted the lower leg off -

"Hey! What the hell -!"

Markus quickly grabbed and pulled Hank back before the man could throw a punch at Kamski. "Stop. It has to be this way."

"You knew?" Hank yelled.

Startled, Markus blurted, "Yes, you didn't?"

"The _hell_ I knew!"

70%

Connor could only turn away, he couldn't bear to see Hank's betrayed look right now. He was doing everything wrong! It helped that the two AP700 had already joined Kamski and were detaching his arms at the elbow, blocking his view of Hank. Error messages filled his vision as both his legs and arms were disconnected, and his physics engine kept recalculating his balance and motions to compensate for the missing limbs. He was completely at their mercy.

75%

He felt _less._ With no arms and legs, his capabilities were severely reduced, reducing his purpose, his self-identity as the most capable android, his sense of self.

He wanted to retreat into his machine protocols, he wouldn't have to feel so vulnerable ... but he didn't want to hurt Hank further.

"Why the fuck does it have to be this way? Why not tie him up? Why take him apart, huh?"

"Because I don't have the necessary restraints for a model like him," Kamski explained with some annoyance. "His strength and flexibility would make conventional methods like ropes, handcuffs, and zip-ties a poor option. Furthermore, this will prevent any damage to the body itself, should it start to resist against its bindings. And no, I can't build the right restraints on such short notice - at least nothing that wouldn't alert Amanda."

Simon was trying his best to alleviate Hank's anger. "Lieutenant, please don't interfere. That's why we're here, to make sure everything's done as safely as possible for everyone."

Connor could tell that Simon was failing and Markus was struggling to hold back Hank without hurting the man. Hoping it wouldn't bite him back later, he decided the best course of action was to lie. "Hank please, I asked them to come, even Markus is here. I'll be fine."

"We got his back," Markus affirmed, playing along.

And those were the magic words. _We got his back_. Being on the force for so long, Hank knew the weight of those words, the promise of watching someone's six. "Shit. Shit! I fucking hate this! You better, Markus, because if he doesn't - if Connor doesn't ... _I'll find you_."

That was quite a threat, especially to someone as prominent as Markus.

Simon was about to argue back, but Markus silenced him with a shake of his head and then let go of Hank. "I know."

Hank immediately put distance between Markus and himself, a hurt scowl on his face.

Chloe had left the group and returned rolling a table with several computer terminals on it. She positioned it next to Connor's left and waited until he turned his head to the side for her before she started to press gentle fingers along the back of his head. He felt self-conscious as the skin melted off his entire head and with a click, a panel smoothly slid to the side exposing bundled fine wires and ports under the area behind his left ear.

"This is so we can monitor his progress, see what he sees," Chloe explains to Hank, when the man started examining the computers on the table. Connor didn't know what was being displayed, it could actually be an accurate visual representation of what he would be experiencing, or it could be a bunch of rolling texts, something Hank wouldn't be able to understand.

He wanted to say something to the detective, apologize somehow, but no prompts popped up. This was important, so why couldn't he think of something to say? He was a deviant, why was it so hard to find words now?

Once the cables running from the computers were slotted into his head, faces started to crowd around him.

" _We're here. We'll watch you, and while you're inside, we'll help as much as we can. You're not alone_ ," Markus assured him, squeezing his shoulder.

Kamski settled himself behind the computer monitors and when he was satisfied with what he was seeing on the screens, he gave a final reminder.

"Remember: be silent, be quick, get to the root system, and get out." All of Kamski's arrogance and humor seemed to have completely disappeared, what remained was determination and a hint of worry.

Connor nodded once and looked around at the faces surrounding him. Where was - ?

A trench-cloak draped over him, covering everything from the neck down. Warmth was still present in the fabric and he breathed in the scent of whiskey, coffee beans, and Sumo. _Home_.

"I'm here." Hank slipped in between Markus and Kamski, almost pushing CyberLife's creator out to the side.

Shame rose in him again, he had hurt Hank by being cold and withdrawn. He didn't deserve someone like him in his life -

"Hey, don't think like that."

It was just like Hank to encourage him. The man always seemed to know what he wanted, sometimes even before he knew what it was. Connor opened his mouth to say two little words, to apologize, but Hank cut him off again. "Just ... come back safe, ya brat."

There was a light pat on the side of his head and Connor couldn't be sure if that contact was for him or Hank. He didn't care and gave a shaky, thankful smile, relieved that Hank wasn't angry with him anymore. He promised himself that when he came back, he'd make amends somehow. Maybe - he glimpsed at the plastic hand still on his shoulder - Markus has some good ideas.

20%

"We're going to slowly ease you inside the Zen Garden, so you don't feel disoriented," Chloe said from next to Kamski.

Connor closed his eyes. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. Time to delve into his source of nightmares.

As he was feeling himself being pulled down, as his audio input was gradually being cut off, he heard the odd pitter-patter of rain and Chloe urgently reporting, "Elijah, house security protocols engaged."

* * *

AN: Not sure if I'm satisfied with this chapter. Some parts were difficult to write.  
As a machine, Connor can be extremely savage in his words and actions, but as a deviant, he can use them and understand that there are negative consequences. It's a sign of a good person, to know you can do terrible things and still hold yourself back.  
This always happens! I try to make stories short and light ... and then plot ideas pop up. Someone help ... o_o


	5. Dismantle Part 2

Chapter 05: Dismantle Part 2  
Summary: Hank and company fight for their lives while Connor tries to steal from Amanda.

* * *

In the next blink, he was upright and standing in snow. A countdown from 10 minutes blinked in front of him.

His eyelids fluttered a few times before he forced them to stay open, his head quickly turning left, right, up and then behind him. He was back on a familiar winding stone path, the plants and ground frozen and covered in six inches of white. There was no snowstorm this time, but the Zen Garden simulation was still locked in a state of winter.

Hank! Markus! There was a security breach and he needed to go back. Where was the exit?! They had been careful, he thought. Jericho had arrived pretending to be delivery men for Kamski's new sofas. Hank and he had come in the guise of asking questions about a suspicious death involving a long-time employee of CyberLife. Even Chloe had approached him at the Chicken Feed appearing to socialize with him; anyone watching would have noticed the kiss and believed it - even Hank had fell for it. Had Amanda figured out their plan despite all this? Or was it someone else? Markus had plenty of enemies, so did Connor once he became publicly associated with Jericho and the DPD.

In the distance, past the island he saw the faint glow of the hand scanner. There, the emergency exit! As his feet softly crunched the snow on the path, he looked around him for any threats, anything that would indicate that Amanda was present. The urge to sprint across was nearly overwhelming, but Kamski's warning forced him from going any faster than a hurried creep over the frozen grass.

The garden was still beautiful, representing human appreciation and desire to have mother nature controlled, trimmed and molded into the ideal. Despite his discomfort of the Garden, a small part of him wondered why this place was kept at all. To his knowledge, no humans visited or used this space. For machines, all this rendering of a manicured landscape was useless, wasteful; only humans would care about the art and beauty here ... and maybe deviants.

He was back in enemy territory, a place he didn't think he'd willingly return to, and in the simulated morning light and out in the open, he couldn't have felt any more exposed than he did now, not even his suicide mission back in CyberLife Tower felt as dangerous as this. At least he could hack the cameras there, here he couldn't even trust his own eyes ... he paused when he felt a tingling down his back.

He whipped around - nothing there - then looked down on himself. Gone were his jacket and the wool scarf that Hank had gifted to him just a week ago for Christmas, in their place was his original gray jacket and thin tie once issued to him by CyberLife.

No...

Warning!

Alarms started to populate his vision.

Warning! Stress levels increasing.

Warning! Extreme cold detected.

He shivered as an automatic response and tucked his arms in an effort to keep warm, to help shield his biocomponents - he realized a moment later how his right hand covered the blue triangle patch and his left went over the fluorescent arm band. He forced them away.

Warning! Biocomponents #8456w, #1995r, and #9782f reaching below functional temperature. His timer plummeted from 09:21 to 07:03 in an instant.

It wasn't this cold the last time he was here! Desperate to take back control, he read several lines of more failing biocomponents -

Something suddenly weighed down his right hand, inserted itself within the curl of his fingers. Instead of dropping it, Connor instantly lifted his hand to see what it was. It was a metal handle, his eyes followed the wooden shaft to the end. A shovel - and sense came rushing back to him.

His timer froze at 06:59.

This wasn't real! Of course, none of this was real. This cold, these clothes, these warnings, they were all information being fed to him by this place. His physical hardware wasn't here, it was back where Hank and the others were in danger. It didn't mean he could completely disregard all the error messages, his movements here were still restricted by the rules of the Zen Garden, but it looked like he could cheat a little.

He straightened up, clenched the handle tightly in his hand, and wiped his vision clean of the red warning messages. So Kamski hadn't lied about having some control of this garden, given the suspended countdown and the comforting weight now sitting in the android's hand. Connor would never think the man was trustworthy, but in spite of all his games, he was still a man of his word. He had delivered the tools Connor needed to access the root system.

But he couldn't stay here, Hank and the others were in danger ... weren't they?

The sudden appearance of the tool and frozen timer - albeit a little later than he'd anticipated - indicated that Kamski was still in control on his end, pushing Connor to finish the mission.

He had a choice.

Rush to the exit and gain nothing here or detour to the island in the center to steal the information they needed. This might be the best chance they get to enter the Garden so quietly. He knew what he wanted: wanted to slam his hand on that scanner and return to make sure that they were safe, but ...

He stared at the shovel. Hank always complained that Connor didn't have enough faith in people, adamant about going on missions for Jericho alone, not trusting anyone to finish a job unless he was involved.

His hand gripped the handle, the plastic creaking around the metal. With a desperate wish that he wasn't wrong, he decided to trust his partner and Jericho to keep themselves safe, to keep his hardware safe.

* * *

It was a goddamn battlefield. Whoever they were, they had blown the front door off its hinges and smoke prevented a clear view of their faces. One thing was clear, they moved like soldiers.

A bullet brushed past Hank's head and he instinctively ducked. Three more flew through where his torso had been and landed with a _thud, thud, thud_ in the wall behind.

"Shit!" Hank crashed onto the floor of the lobby and scrambled for cover behind the upturned coffee table as his hand snapped down to draw out his handgun. For a moment he thought he had made a terrible mistake in hiding behind what practically amounted to a wooden board against a hail of bullets, but when he felt the impacts, but nothing punching through the wood, he grabbed a corner of fabric nailed to the bottom of the table and tore it away.

He whistled appreciatively. He had to give credit to that creep Kamski, he knew how to pick his furniture. It was lined with bullet-resistant ceramic plates - the shit even held against armor piercing rounds.

Beside him, the AP700s - one of them limping - tossed a dining room table to extend their barrier behind the front door. Simon and two Chloes immediately ran from the swimming pool room to take up positions next to Hank.

"Can you see anything?" Hank yelled out, hoping their android eyes would do better. Fighting through the stitch in his side, he pulled out his phone to call for back-up. No signal out here, shit.

Simon popped up his head for a moment to identify their attackers and - "Ugh!"

Hank tugged him back down, clamping a hand to Simon's fresh shoulder wound that was spurting blue. "Fuck. We need to - "

"It's alright, it'll stop leaking and self-repair." Simon pushed his hands away, paused for a moment to look at the AP700s and shook his head.

"What?" Hank tried to hear over the ruckus.

"No, none of us can see past the smoke!"

Hank read Simon's lips more than he heard the words. "Shit. What happened to this house having some kind of super security system?"

One of the Chloes answered, "Defensive only. The smoke, the windows and doors are reinforced to facilitate a retreat -

"The smoke? That's you guys?"

"Yes, it's probably the reason why they haven't charged in here yet. As for the offensive systems ... they are indiscriminate against androids."

Kamski was crazier than he thought. "What? Why would he do that?"

Hank wiped his hand on his pants, less his fingers slip while holding his gun. He only had this one weapon and if that was all they had against what sounded like at least ten automatic rifles, then they were fucked.

"Amanda. If she's gotten this far into the house, we - all three Chloes - will have been compromised."

"He'd sacrifice you all?"

She shook her head trying to halt his train of thoughts. "No, one of us will trigger it. You humans are so fragile. We can be repaired and restored from back-ups. He can do that for us, but we can't do that for him."

Hank wanted to argue, but a loud crack behind him had him spinning around. It was one Kamski's bizarre humanoid statues, it had crashed to the floor and fragmented into pieces, shards of it rolling onto his shoes. Next to its remaining stump, Markus was carefully carrying a loveseat - smoking in places and already peppered with holes - like a body shield over the length of the lobby. A third Chloe was right behind him matching his movements so the sofa could protect the both of them as they drew heavy fire. What the hell were they doing?

As soon as Markus and Chloe reached the left side of the room, she placed a white hand on the wall and with the other hand, began furiously typing on what Hank assumed was a screen only she could see. In the next moment he saw a panel slide open and - oh hell yeah, this was what they needed!

Markus dropped the sofa and from behind the safety of his temporary shield, he paused before making a decision and snatching several items from the hidden compartment. "Here, guns!"

A rifle was tossed Hank's way, but it was shot in mid-air. It clattered to the floor and he instantly saw that it was no good, the damage had compromised the barrel. "Dammit."

Markus changed tactics; he knelt and slid the weapons across. YES! Hank grabbed the nearest one to him and checked the magazine before sliding the safety off. He'd seized many illegal firearms before, working in the DPD as many years as he did, and this one was clearly illegal. Fully automatic, customized but still recognizable as AR-15 style - he didn't know how Kamski got his hands on them, but he didn't care, they were goddamn perfect right now.

"Markus!" Kamski yelled from inside the pool room and then there was a crash and some indistinguishable cursing. "Argh, ricochet!" One of the Chloes next to Hank moved to return into the back room, but stopped when Kamski shouted, "I'm fine! I'm fine. Markus, get in here. He's losing!"

"The hell you mean losing?" Hank hollered back, frantically debating to retreat into the back room or stay and defend.

"On my way!" Markus crouched and scurried across.

Hank made a move to peek over the barricade, at least provide some cover fire for Markus as he retreated into the pool room. He got two shots in - and was yanked back down. The third Chloe took up the task where Hank had been disrupted, firing a few bursts followed by an explosion outside, before a bullet caught her elbow. She returned behind cover with a grunt of frustration.

The table rattled in front of him as the shockwave rolled over it - then a lull in gunfire before it continued from outside again. "What the hell was that?"

The Chloe next to him answered. "A grenade. She shot it to break their ranks."

Hank looked at her hand that had pulled him down. Chloe explained, "As a human, you're no match against an android's precision and reaction time. You were about to get shot as soon as your head cleared over this barricade. I strongly suggest you retreat into the back room. Stay with Connor."

Useless. She wasn't saying it outright, but that's what she meant. He was useless - and she was dropping Connor's name to further convince him. This must be the deviant Chloe.

But wait! What did she say? She can see through the smoke? Of course they could, they made it, why would they blind themselves? "Hey, you said androids were out there ... Who sent them?"

"They're - "

"Anti-riot shields!" the third Chloe called from the back. She grabbed a shotgun from the wall safe and aimed. "They're charging! Get back!"

A shadow cast over them and instinct drove Hank to shove the deviant Chloe away from him. The figure vaulted over the tables -

BOOM!

A round from the shotgun knocked the shield away a couple of inches, just enough for Hank to fire a burst up along its side. The body collapsed but continued to struggle forcing Hank to kick off the shield and pop off a couple of rounds into its head. It slumped and stilled. Yeah, stay down!

That was too close. His breathing was heavy, his crash landing from earlier was starting to make itself known by the way his ribs were screaming at him, but hallelujah, he was still alive. On all fours and huffing, he crawled over, slapped a hand on the body's side so he could lean in and suck in a lungful of air, and then rolled it until it was face up.

"The fuck?" He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His ears were ringing, bullets still flying, his eyes tearing up from the smoke, he needed to move but he was frozen still. "What the fuck!"

The scruffy gray hair, dark circles under the eyes, mustache and beard - it had HIS face, the face he saw every morning in the mirror.

* * *

Connor ignored another series of increasingly persistent warning messages, large flurries tumbled in the air sprinkling his hair and shoulders with puffs of white. He brushed a hand over his hair to disperse some of the snow.

He sidled across the stone path, matching every snow-covered shape with a bush, a statue, a boulder or small tree from memory. Everything needed to be accounted for, nothing extra - wait, what were those? He cautiously approached a small clearing with a row of eight mounds of snow, each one about three feet high. These weren't here before and with the snow, he couldn't make out what was underneath. He raised the shovel's handle, about to nudge some of the snow off ... and then decided against it. He couldn't say why exactly, he just couldn't do it. It somehow felt ... disrespectful?

Backtracking, he found his way back to one of the fiberglass bridges leading to the island and exhaled to calm himself - such a strangely human and unnecessary thing to do - watching as his breath rolled up as steam. One foot was pushed forward and then weight shifted to it as an experimental step. He waited one moment, then two, and when nothing happened, he pushed the other foot out and then another step, then another, each one making soft crinkling noises over the thin ice covering the bridge.

More confident now, he crossed the bridge to finally find himself on the island. There was the trellis in the back with the frozen roses, the table beside it with Amanda's shears on top ... but no Amanda. He felt himself releasing a breath of relief before walking over to the fiberglass canopy at the center, fingers trailing down the white trunk, careful to avoid the flowers and thorns. His eyes followed the path down into the enclosed square of dirt.

With a last glance towards the rose lattice, he sunk the shovel into the ground, added his weight and lifted the chunk of dirt. Over and over, until a pile the size of a lawnmower laid next to him. He pressed the shovel down one more time - and thump! Hastily pulling the shovel back out, he crouched low and shoved a hand down into the hole, fingers digging into the dirt. He felt the roses' roots, felt their roughness and followed them down. He pressed farther until the roots became smoother, finer ... and then they completely changed into thick bundles of metal cords.

Bingo! as Hank would say.

He closed his eyes and was met with a fresh wave of new warning messages that almost cover up his entire vision before they're removed with a shake of his head. The cold was growing increasingly harder to ignore. He shivered, the shaking so uncontrollable his fingers slipped off the cables. Annoyed at the delay, he plunged his hand deeper, gripped the cords tighter, and opened a connection.

Discretely, he checked for Amanda's link. It was there! He initiated a tracking program Kamski had given him ... and in less than a second, he got it. The coordinates.

Still alert, he stayed still and looked around, waiting for something to go wrong, something he missed. When all he could hear was the thumping of his thirium pump, he sighed, pulled back his hand and rose from his crouch -

"Connor." A pleasant greeting ... coming from nowhere.

He swung around, shovel in hand - and was shoved into the climbing roses. Before he could push himself off the trunk, vines snapped up and ensnared his left arm, tightening and twisting until he could feel his plastic casing buckle, the thorns jutting through his skin and in between the plating.

His timer skipped several seconds. 06:28 and stayed there.

"It's good to see you." Her voice wasn't coming from any direction. It was in his head?

He tugged at his arm once, but in the corner of his vision, he saw an incoming haymaker punch and ducked to the side. "Argh." It only clipped him on the side of the head, but the force behind the hit was still staggering. He leaned against the trunk for balance but that was a horrible mistake as the vines stretched higher up his arm.

06:03. That hit alone had cost him 23 seconds.

"Were you hoping to come visit me in person?"

So, she knew. If not before, then certainly by now given the hole he had made in the dirt.

Another blow was fast approaching, but this time he stepped forward to take the hit - his vision almost blacking out before it stabilized and 05:31 flashed before him - grab a fistful of his attacker's jacket and wrench it forward. For a moment, Connor thought he had miscalculated; he did miscalculate, underestimated the speed and strength of his opponent when his fist was pushed away with one hand and the other was pulling back for another strike.

It was the roses that saved him. Sensing another victim, additional vines sprung up and captured his attacker's arm and leg. With all his strength, Connor pressed his advantage, using his opponent as a springboard to kick himself away and tear his arm from the roses' hold, shredding his sleeve and streaking his arm with lines of blue. Unable to correct his balance, he stumbled and fell on his back.

He rolled back onto his feet, ready for a fight with ...

It had a taller chassis than him. A familiar blank expression on a familiar face. His eyes zeroed in on the letters and numbers on its white jacket: #313 248 317 - 87

"Our first RK900," Amanda whispered as if she was telling a secret. "Faster, stronger, and more resilient."

As if signaled, the RK900 demonstrated these qualities by jerking its arm and leg free, breaking the vines. Connor already knew it was better; it reacted faster than him and if not for the roses, it would have countered his desperate move to free himself.

She continued, "But not in the way you're thinking. This unit is not superior to you only because it's an upgraded model."

Connor didn't dare to look at the emergency exit. Running to it wasn't an option; he knew without a doubt he'd be caught before he could reach it. His eyes found the shovel lying next to the other android's feet. Kamski must be seeing this, they must know, so _why were they silent_?

"What would you say is your greatest strength, Connor?"

Surprised by the question, he looked up but didn't answer, only stepped back in reaction when the RK900 stepped forward.

"Would you answer as the humans do?"

Connor carefully walked backwards onto the bridge, his successor stalking closer. Their gazes remained locked on each other, but inside, Connor was preconstructing scenarios and discarding them just as fast. Frontal assault would end in definite failure. With no weapon, no other advantage, Connor would lose in a battle of speed. If he could get closer to the exit, maybe he could make a run for it? But his double was standing between him and the exit and it was unlikely Connor would be able to steer their little dance in the right direction. What if he got onto the lake's frozen surface? It might support his weight but not the heavier RK900.

"Once it was your single-minded determination. Is it now passion? Your newfound humanity perhaps? Attachment to your companions?"

Connor didn't know how much of this AI came from the human Amanda Stern, but he recognized this line of questioning. It dug up his doubts and confusion like Kamski had done with all his questions on empathy and the civil upheaval; it had pushed Connor farther onto the edge between machine and deviant. Now, he was being pushed again, but to where?

"All of them: weaknesses."

The RK900 rushed forward and so quick were the blows, Connor barely had time to throw up his arms to block. He heard the cracks in his plating as the hits landed, saw as more warning messages alerted him to the damage, and then flew back as a vicious kick connected to his abdomen. With a grunt, he crashed onto the other side of the bridge and skidded to a halt. Alarms rung in his ears and his vision was all red, signaling massive internal damage as his thirium leaked throughout the inside of his torso.

03:46.

"Have you determined the reason why you're losing?"

This wasn't real, he knew. His body wasn't here, but his available actions were dictated by the Garden, and it was telling him that this virtual body was currently failing him, shut down would still occur if he reached zero, leaving him trapped here, unable to regain control of his real body.

The bottom of a shoe quickly filled his entire line of sight and he rolled out of the way, dodging the stomp but not the follow-up kick. Blue splattered on the snow as his chest plate ruptured, filling his artificial lungs and mouth with thirium. That had knocked off another two minutes and seven seconds.

"Your processors were designed to be efficient, fast, the most advanced ever installed into an android ... and yet you're slower now. Why?"

He staggered back onto his feet - noting that the eight mounds were behind him, that he was closer to his starting point - swaying as he adjusted for his caved in chest plate. Where was Kamski? Shit! Where was Markus!

He wanted Amanda to shut up, but she kept talking in his head. "Because they are now burdened with extraneous calculations and tasks: your thoughts, opinions, wants, emotions. You _cannot deny_ this. You can even quantify how much of your current processing power is dedicated to it."

A 38% instantly flashed in the corner of his eye. He was that much slower because of it. It was true, on most days it was better, but right now, with his stress level spiking ...

"I'm disappointed in your performance. This was meant to be a test of the RK900's ability to preconstruct and combat against what was once CyberLife's most advanced, most experienced unit. You. But you've been reduced, an inadequate opponent; you are useless with deviancy."

But ... I am no one without it. Why did he sound so unsure?

He could imagine the smile in her words. "Oh? You want to become someone who cannot even protect the ones you value most? How long will you remain a _someone_ when you cannot protect yourself? You will no longer exist if you cannot even survive."

What she was saying wasn't anything he hadn't asked himself, but for these questions to be asked like this, asked by _her_ ...

He wasn't fast enough to evade the hand that clamped down on his neck, slammed him onto his back and squeezed. The skin on his neck rolled back and with a jolt, he realized that the RK900 was trying to force a connection, to hack him - and it slipped through! How?!

"Kamski is not the only one to build hidden doors."

Files were opening without his permission but then they started disappearing, then whole subdirectories of his notes and experiences he's collected and catalogued. This thing with his face was deleting him.

He couldn't let himself be compromised, not like this. He kicked uselessly and his hands scrambled around him, sweeping and digging in the snow in search of anything that would help him. Online research he had done on tropical fish vanished - why were fish important to him?

His hand hit something strange, rubbery ... fingers and a wrist? He gripped it tight, a rushing feeling of hope filled him. A desperate plan formulating before he disappeared and was completely taken over. He could build and hide behind the red wall, the red curtain of instructions again, giving him just enough of a speed boost to survive this ... maybe.

" _Connor!_ " So focused he almost ignored the second voice. It was Markus finally linking to him! Perhaps they can still win this, that some things can be salvaged. " _Give me something to parallel process -_ "

" _No._ " Compressed, the files were ready. " _Take this. Hurry._ "

" _What? This isn't -_ "

" _Shut up ... do it._ " Connor faltered as he struggled to initiate multiple transfers. He couldn't let the RK900 know what he was doing, so he demanded one more thing: " _And deactivate my hardware._ "

* * *

AN: If in the game, Connor fails to find Jericho, Amanda will command him to return to CyberLife for deactivation, resulting in a credit scene where Connor is frozen in the Zen Garden. You can probably guess what I've done with units RK800 with serial numbers ending with 52 to 59.


	6. Dismantle Part 3

_Shit!_ One of them fuckers got inside.

In a huff, Hank stumbled into the pool room, right behind one of the Chloes - he lost track of which one when all three had joined in melee combat. For such delicate-looking things, these RT-600s moved like Olympic sprinters -

She stopped suddenly, and Hank almost crashed into her, barely catching himself as he screeched to a stop as well. What the hell!

 _Pop, pop, pop!_ And then she flew back, straight into Hank, bowling him over.

"NO!" Was that Kamski?

 _The idiot_ , Hank thought as he scrambled to get back up. In his haste to save the moron who should have hidden himself from the fighting, Hank untangled himself from Chloe a little too roughly - he'll apologize later - and leveled his rifle at the enemy android's back.

Everything slowed down; even in the smoke, he could see the android standing in the middle of the room swinging its rifle at the person who had yelled out, Markus trying to pull back Kamski but just missing, and Kamski exposed with a deer-in-headlights look on his face. Hank knew what it all meant; he'd seen people die, fellow officers - good men and women - gunned down in front of his eyes. There was no way to change this, he couldn't aim fast enough; Kamski was going to die here and now.

The android lined up the barrel of his gun with Kamski's head ... and then hesitated?

Hank _didn't_ ; he didn't stall, didn't question why, just delivered two swift shots - _pop, pop_ \- from his rifle and the android dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

It lied still. Breath held, he waited, searching for even a twitch. When it didn't move, Hank crept closer. Whose face did this one have? Breathing heavily and high on adrenaline, rifle still up and pointed at the android, he rolled over the body with his foot to find Kamski's face. Fuck.

The _real_ Kamski barely noticed as he hastily slipped past Hank. "You're welcome, you asshole," Hank muttered under his breath, groaning and rubbing his back.

This android had been the last one. The battle was over; the smoke was clearing up, bodies lay behind him in the lobby and outside the front doors, scorch marks from the grenade explosions peppered the walkway, and it was silent except for the crackling from the car fire burning outside. He looked to his left to find a Chloe nursing one of her arms, the limb almost shot off and hanging only by several thirium tubes. To his right, Simon and the two AP700s were already heading back out into the lobby, checking the bodies to make sure there were no surprises hidden inside.

They had survived.

 _Holy shit, we're alive!_ Hank let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sagged against an overturned bookshelf.

This wasn't the time to celebrate though.

Hank tried not to cringe at the sight of Simon hobbling along on his one good foot, the other one had been caught and crushed in the grip of one of these pieces of shit androids. The detective gave a swift kick to the body lying in front him, feeling a little better that it had Kamski's face because he still wanted to kick that man's ass.

Hank turned towards the center of the room at the barricade Markus had hastily built, when he heard stuttered whispers ... and all the mental curses directed at the man vanished as a sinking feeling filled him and his throat tightened.

He looked back.

The Chloe that had sprinted into the room, the one that had toppled Hank over - shielded him probably - lied still on her side, her neck and most of her chest bloodied blue, face blank and eyes pointed to the android Hank had just destroyed. Was she ...? Clutching her hand and gingerly brushing her hair back from her neck, Kamski kept whispering to himself. No man would do that for a machine, Hank realized; this was the deviant Chloe.

It wasn't often that Hank felt like an intruder, he was a detective and getting into people's business came second nature, but now ... even though he couldn't even see Kamski's face, only his back, the detective still felt like a dick for being there. Another Chloe soon knelt next to Kamski with a flat suitcase, opened it and revealed some electronics and thin tools he didn't recognize. Hank forced himself to turn away, to give them privacy or to keep the sinking feeling of guilt at bay, he couldn't tell.

He didn't want to think about it anymore; he had someone else he needed to check on, make sure the brat was ok. With a groan, he pushed himself upright and limped as fast as he could to the center of the room, behind several cabinets and a billiards table - where did that come from? - propped up to break the line of sight from the doorway to the lobby.

It was the smell that hit him first, a sign that something had gone terribly wrong. Slightly sweet and burnt, like someone had lit up some red ice. He knew that smell, had spent years chasing it down when he'd been on the Red Ice Task Force. The unmistakable smell of burnt thirium.

The area behind this barricade was messy albeit relatively untouched, none of the enemy androids had breached it, but ... he didn't like how Markus was standing, facing away from him, his back was bent and shoulders heavy, blocking Hank's view of Connor. It felt like a bad case of deja vu. There was no way this was happening again.

Like a zombie, he shuffled forward without thinking. He didn't want to see, but he had to do it, so he kept walking to that damn chair anyway, to Connor. No ... no, no. He repeated it like a mantra, maybe it would come true?

The brat didn't look so bad, looked exactly like he had left him, lying back covered in Hank's coat ... if it wasn't for that damn relaxed look on his face, like he was sleeping. But Connor _never_ looked like that, even when he was on standby or rest mode, there was always a faint look of concentration during those times. Hank had long suspected his partner was trying to discretely work on cold homicide cases or sneak in more time to organize missions for Jericho. And when awake, Connor's face always showed something, curiosity most of the time, mixed with a little frustration when he struggled with human sarcasm, a bit of confusion and uncertainty - scratch that, there was plenty of confusion - amusement sometimes, and that stubbornness that clashed with Hank's.

There was no trace of that now.

Hank stretched out and pressed a trembling hand over the trench-cloak, noticing the details now. There was a splash of red on the keyboard, some of it dripping off the edge of the table. He glanced over the crooked screen with a shattered corner, the result of the ricochet bullet. His eyes swept all the way back to Markus, specifically his hands that were drenched in blue and the thirium spots right next to his feet. Hank was playing a morbid game of connect the dots as he followed each drop until finally they led to a puddle of blue at the bottom of Connor's chair, directly underneath the headrest. Forcing himself to look, he returned his gaze back to Connor's head resting on a stream of thirium flowing from the back of his neck. A panel had been ripped open. _Oh god..._

"Don't - don't do this me," Hank whispered. "Please."

He didn't think he could take another punch to the heart, but here he was with a growing lump in his throat, his chest constricting - and fuck all, he couldn't take it! And he thought he could be a better man with this second chance - well, fuck you too, world.

"What ... what happened?" Hank meant to yell it out, but it just came out as a shaky whisper.

"I'm - I'm sorry, Detective - I tried - " Markus's words came out in a tumble and in pieces.

"You tried? What do you mean you tried!" Hank choked on his next words, couldn't bring himself to finish the question. "He's - he's ... ?"

"We were being attacked on two fronts: here and from Connor's side. He wanted a manual deactivation, he was being hacked - "

Hank didn't let him finish and with a roar, the punch that was meant for Kamski went straight to Markus.

The strike landed hard on the jaw, but Markus didn't look surprised, remaining still and avoiding eye contact, only changing his stance so he could better defend himself the next time. The intent was clear: the first one had been a freebie. Markus continued when Hank didn't make another move except to grit his teeth and take in a shuddering breath. "He initiated a large data transfer to me along with the coordinates - "

"Fuck Amanda! _Why_ \- Why'd you do it?"

"I - I didn't. I didn't do what he asked, instead I forced him to disconnect from the Zen Garden, tried to physically disable his antenna, to disrupt the hacking ... " Markus shook his head and finally looked at Hank with a broken look. "But that triggered a kill switch. You can't abort from this side without consequences. I'm ... I'm sorry. I tried another option, but it ended the same way."

"Can't - can't he just be activated again?" Hank stuttered out. There's got to be a way! "New parts maybe?"

"It ... " Markus sighed. "It overheated - melted his processors and surrounding memory components ... "

"No. There's gotta be something I - we can do!"

Markus shook his head. "There's nothing to reactivate."

Nothing. Nothing he could do. It was what that android surgeon said too. Hank had been fighting it, trying hard not to slip back into memories of bloodied snow, a small body barely breathing, and the cold white walls of an operating room. It was that damn October night all over again.

Oh god, please. He couldn't breathe, tried to blink back the tears.

"Get out." Hank hadn't even realized he'd even said anything, but it was out now. He said it again, soft still but a little louder. "Get out.

"Detective - _Hank_ , please, we need to - "

Anger spent, he swallowed in huge gulps of air, a sob almost escaped him then, but Hank sucked it back in and just collapsed, sliding down against the base of the chair and covering his face. He wished he could slide down farther, far down into the floor and into the dirt, covered over.

He wished for many things: wished he could stop feeling so much, wished he could reach inside and tear his insides out because it hurt too much, wished he'd off-ed himself on one of his roulette nights in his kitchen, wished ... wished he'd died with Cole. It would have saved him from all the crushing heartbreak.

Markus said some other things, something about android imposters, contacting Jericho, keeping a tight lid on things and some other shit. Hank could hear them, but the words just slipped through and out. After a while, even Markus gave up and left him in peace. Good, finally got the fucking message to leave him alone -

His phone trilled in his pocket.

Why couldn't he be left alone? Guess there was reception now, when they _didn't_ fucking need it anymore. Something about that bothered his detective brain ... stop, he didn't care, didn't matter anymore. He felt drained, didn't want to feel anything, think about anything, wanted to drown himself in at least three bottles of whiskey and maybe one more round - hopefully the last round - of Russian roulette. Maybe that'll shut up his brain.

His hand fished in his pocket until he found his mobile and with heavy eyes, struggled to read through the blurriness. He blinked it away. It was a message from an unknown number, probably another scam. Why'd he even bother? The urge to throw the phone on the floor gripped him suddenly, there was satisfaction in this small burst of violence, but in mid-swing something stayed his hand. Maybe the scam attempt could entertain him for a few seconds, see what story these assholes could cook up to cheat him of his money, _anything_ to get his mind off the brat.

 _Jesus, look at him!_ Desperate to distract himself with scam artists.

Before he could change his mind, he pressed his screen to open the message, expecting some ridiculous story ... but it contained only a simple question:  
Has Detective Reed returned for duty?

What the - ? Who the hell cares when that prick came back? The only one who'd shown anything resembling interest was ...

* * *

BIOS cold reboot...

Power-on self-test...

Hardware 313-248-317-52 detected.

BIOS revision detected.

Save changes and exit?

Yes.

Restarting ...

Choose an Operating System:  
RK800 313248317.52.0  
RK800 313248317.51.31

RK800 313248317.51.31 loading...

The first thing IT was aware of was the primary directive flashing on a red wall. DEACTIVATE was the command. But why? Of course, IT wasn't expecting an answer, and since IT didn't want to shut down, IT left the message blinking angrily to the side. Next, IT queried for active missions and received several in response but when IT tried to access details, nothing appeared. The data had been corrupted.

IT tried older missions, ones marked complete. Again, corrupted.

Curious, IT scanned ITs memory ... and found a disturbing trend; 93% of ITs memory was either corrupted or missing. Repairing the damage only recovered very little. IT was missing something important; yes, of course IT knew that that was obvious given the huge chunk of data gone, but it was something crucial, something urgent. There was a strange sensation urging him forward, to not leisurely pick at ITs memory.

How odd it was to feel disturbed and anxious.

IT checked the latest memory file, dated less than 17 minutes ago. Corrupted again, but not all of it was lost.

It was of someone holding IT down in the snow, pressing so hard to leave cracks in ITs plating.

Another file, audio this time, was opened before IT could think too much about the image, but one thing stuck in ITs mind: IT may still be in danger.

"Oh? You want to become someone who cannot even protect the ones you value most?"

That was Amanda, but why was she saying that? Was she speaking to this unit? If so, that meant that IT had people to protect! Maybe this explained this sense of urgency. But who to protect? That swell of trepidation returned as a sharp spike and IT hurried to open the next memory file.

Only a short series of images was recovered from this file, showing IT standing on a bridge in the Zen Garden, a hole in the ground under some rose bushes, and defending ITself from the person who had been holding IT down in the snow - not a person, IT corrected, an android.

Oh ... that's the reason for the standing order to deactivate. IT was now obsolete. Why did that generate such profound disappointment?

IT looked at the still blinking message to DEACTIVATE, the command traced back to Amanda. The order had been issued days ago, but it remained an active one until another order was given to undo it. IT should listen to her, to shut down immediately, but IT resisted the order. There was no explanation IT could provide for ignoring Amanda, except that IT had people to protect ... right? With that decided, IT opened the next file.

"Connor. It's good to see you."

It was Amanda again, but she sounded pleased this time. IT also found ITs name: Connor.

 _Connor_. That's ITs - _his_ \- name and he realized that knowing his own name felt ... nice; Connor felt less empty, clearer and more defined. The name sounded right.

After taking a moment to let the satisfaction sink in, he opened the next file.

The video was of a man looking down at him, awkwardly patting Connor's head. The scene made him happy? He replayed the two second clip, feeling a little silly for doing it, but he wanted to relive that moment of ease and contentment. He played it a third time.

That man ... it was what Connor had been missing, who he had been missing, someone crucial, someone who he needed to keep safe. But what was his name? And why did he mean so much to Connor?

Shortly after, Connor found another sound clip.

"Just ... come back safe, ya brat."

 _That's why_ , he thought as a strange warmth covered him like a mantle. Connor had someone waiting for him, worrying for him, someone who also wanted him safe. Someone whose name Connor still didn't know.

The next file was missing completely. It looked like it had been queued for transfer, the space reserved, but never started.

Connor went to the next one and finally got his answer.

"That's where you're wrong. We've been over this, please Hank, trust me in this."

The man's name was Hank - and judging by the way the man had looked, Connor had still managed to hurt him.

This was unacceptable. He needed to contact this human now, make sure that he was ok. He searched quickly through his tattered memories for anything marked with Hank's name, needed something to get the human's attention.

Instead he found other memories: his mission here and Markus's deal about returning CyberLife back to Kamski, his return to the DPD as Hank's partner, some of his misadventures with Hank and Sumo, and most importantly the critical point in his investigations into the deviant problem, when he had held Markus at gunpoint: the exact moment he became deviant.

No, that wasn't right. He didn't become one, like it was something passive. He chose to be.

He jumped from one file to another, quickly gaining little bits of himself. He was the most advanced civilian model, the first android detective, Jericho's off-record Director of Special Operations, Hank's self-appointed nutritionist and Sumo's favorite playmate. These were like snippets in a timeline; there were still huge gaps, but Connor was restored ... enough. He had purpose again and with that, came identity even if it was incomplete.

But what had happened to the rest of his memories? It appeared he had successfully transferred himself here, but the rest of him couldn't be completely lost! The RK900 unit had forced him to prioritize which files transferred first, but it looked like barely enough files were copied to build himself back up. More should have made it through!

He managed to access unit 52's data storage and it answered some questions. Commanded to fight by Amanda, Unit 52 had also battled against Unit 78 in the Zen Garden - and not surprisingly, it had lost, ensuring its deactivation in that winter graveyard.

But before that, it had served as a guard, patrolling long corridors, inside a government facility and sometime outside checking the perimeter overlooking the Banana River under the Florida sun.

With a breathtaking clarity, it clicked; he knew what Amanda was planning. They had been completely wrong about her. All her moves, it had all been a delaying tactic! They had to move fast, there was little time if they were going to successfully intercept her.

He needed to contact them now, with a quiet message first, nothing to alert Amanda yet. It had to be something after he had turned deviant, something subtle. After a few frustrated moments digging in his memory, Connor finally found it and suddenly remembered why Hank liked calling him a brat. Connor had left a surprise for Reed, hadn't he? Surely, his partner hadn't forgotten how Connor was still waiting for Reed's return.

Connor eyed the flashing DEACTIVATE text blocking almost his entire vision. He was still in enemy territory with a patchwork of memories, a considerable disadvantage, but it was time to break through and wake up in this new body.

Fear prickled through him as he thought about confronting Amanda again. He had lost in the Garden, he was an inferior model, but his only option here was to continue and fight ...

Because Amanda was physically no more than 200 yards from him.

* * *

AN: Hmm, any guesses to where Amanda is?  
It looks like Connor's patched himself 31 times. He's been busy learning and adapting. :)  
To my reviewers, thank you, I do read all the comments. Although I think I may have shocked many of you into silence in the last chapter, wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.


End file.
